


study dates and coconut lips

by zimtlein



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Making Out, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27815164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimtlein/pseuds/zimtlein
Summary: Marinette wants to make out. Adrien wants to do French homework.Well. That’s a bit of a problem.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 40
Kudos: 217





	study dates and coconut lips

“Okay. Slight problem.” Marinette grabs Alya’s arm, dragging her away from other prying ears. She knows her face is beet-red, and she knows her lower lip is trembling a bit, but this is an emergency. Desperate times and all that. “Understatement. Huge problem. Massive problem. Gigantic problem.”

“Okay,” Alya drawls as she puts her hands on Marinette’s shoulders. “First, breathe.”

“I am breathing!”

“Breathe silently.”

Marinette breathes silently. Her face still feels way too hot. “Nope. Still a gigantic problem.”

“So – what is? What’s the problem?”

Again, Marinette turns her head. Just to make sure no one is overhearing this. Especially not a certain gorgeous blonde model. Then, slowly, she turns around to Alya. “So. Just. Just a question. But after you and Nino got together, how long did it take you to – uh, you know, to – uh, when did you …”

Alya’s eyes grow wider and wider. Marinette’s urge to sink into herself becomes more and more pressing.

“When did you first make out?” she peeps, hiding her face behind her hands so she doesn’t have to deal with Alya’s reaction.

“Oh.” A laugh. “Oh, my god.” Another laugh, this time longer. “You mean – you mean, like, French kissing?”

Marinette squeaks, burying her face deeper. “Yes, no, maybe?”

“With tongue? A lot of it?”

“Oh god –”

“Very sloppy?”

“Alya –”

“Don’t tell me …” Alya’s voice comes a little bit closer. “Really now? You didn’t yet …?”

“I don’t know, okay? I have no idea why!” Marinette sharply looks up, feeling tears sting in her eyes. “I have no idea – Alya, I never made out with anyone! Do you, like, smash your open mouths together? Or do you – how is that even anatomically possible? Are our – do our tongues … touch? If yes, then – how? Does it even make sense? Who the hell invented French kissing? Who thought to themselves, oh, hey, I dunno, Elise! It would be oh so lovely for our tongues to touch and do weird things with each other, would you not say? And I bet you that Elise was weirded out as hell, so why did she even agree? And –”

“I – sorry.” Cackling wildly, face turned to the floor, Alya pats both her shoulders. “I lost it at the smashing part already.”

“Don’t laugh!” Marinette hisses, whole body becoming a fidgeting mess. “I mean it!”

“Oh god, Marinette!” Wiping tears from her eyes, Alya looks up again. “Don’t tell me you didn’t even kiss yet!”

“You saw us kissing!”

“I saw you pecking his lips. Like you’d kiss your little cute brother.”

“Ew, Alya!”

“I’m just saying. You _did_ kiss a bit more passionately before, right?”

Marinette is starting to sweat. “Please define passionately in a manner that doesn’t make me want to faint.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Alya’s amusement is replaced by disbelief. “You were on your own. Somewhere. And you kissed for more than five seconds. Right?”

“I …”

“For god’s sake,” Alya whispers. “You’ve been dating for over three weeks, and you never found time for yourselves? To just – kiss?”

“Adrien is very busy!” Marinette shrieks. “And very handsome! And very polite! Oh my god, Alya, he is so goddamn polite.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Not that I don’t like it – you know what? I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Every time I wanted to, like …” Marinette tries to imply a smooching motion. Even though she isn’t quite sure how that is supposed to look like. “He suddenly asked me if I am all right, or if I’m uncomfortable, and then I got nervous, and then – ugh!”

“Okay. Okay, girl, listen.” Alya looks at her with the determination only a best friend could possess. “Step one: get some alone time. Preferably not in public.”

Nodding eagerly, Marinette pulls her notepad from her bag.

“Step two: climb his lap and kiss him silly.”

She stops scribbling. “Wait.”

“Step three: nibble his neck. I’m telling you, boys love that. Even if they can’t admit it.”

“Wait, Alya.”

“Step four: try hands only first. Just to get a feel for him. Makes it less scary later on.”

“No, no, no, wait, stop –”

“Step five: if you think you can handle it already, go to your –”

“Can we please start at step one?” Marinette interrupts quickly, her face glowing hot.

“Sure.” Alya grins. “But bestie, if you ever need any tips …”

“Oh my god, thank you, but look …”

“You can’t even make out properly without problems yet. I get it.”

Marinette sighs. Such is life, she guesses.

When they return to the classroom, the first thing Marinette sees is Adrien giving her a radiant smile. Time to put step one into motion. With all the confidence she can muster, Marinette steps up to him, slamming both her hands on the desk as she leans closer to him.

“You. Me. Alone.”

Adrien blinks a few times, leaning back. “Now?”

That wasn’t specified in Alya’s five-or-probably-more-oh-god step program. She is starting to sweat as she blinks back at Adrien. Helplessly, she lifts her head to look at Alya sitting at her desk. In return, Alya points at her wrist, making a circling motion with her hand as her face becomes a picture of urgency.

Okay. Okay. Easy.

With newfound courage, she reaches for Adrien’s hand, drawing very natural circles over his hand. There, easy. The touch is entirely weird, but hey, she trusts Alya. Even though Adrien stares at her as if she has lost her marbles for good.

Anyway, she has a mission here.

“Yes,” she therefore replies sharply. “Now.”

“Actually, no!” Alya pipes up, tackling Marinette so hard she can’t continue her thoughtful circling motions. “Actually, she wanted to ask …” Alya stares at her, and something in her pressing expression tells Marinette that she is expected to go on.

“Wanted to ask … if …” She narrows her eyes at Alya. “You … Have a …”

“If you would like to …” Alya corrects her.

“If you would like to …” At Alya’s nod, Marinette furrows her brow. “Have some …”

“Spend …”

“Spend some time with … me! Spend some time with me, alone!”

Nodding a few times, Alya grins. “And when?”

“Later!” Absolutely excited by her own sharp thinking capacities, Marinette turns back to Adrien. “I wanted to ask if you would like to spend some time with me! Later! Alone!”

During the whole exchange, Adrien only stared from one girl to the other in confusion. “Sure. A date. We could grab some ice cream?”

“Or,” Alya loudly interjects, eyes latching onto Marinette again.

“Or,” Marinette agrees, clueless on how to proceed.

“You could …” Gesticulating wildly, Alya points at Adrien, then Marinette.

“You … Oh!” Smacking her fist against her open palm, Marinette turns back to Adrien. “We could go to mine! Alone! Just the two of us! Nobody but us, in my bedroom!”

She said it so loudly that someone whistles from the back of the class. Realizing just how public her attempt at, um, make-out seduction really is, Marinette slowly starts to sink into herself, cheeks burning up. And right in front of her, Adrien doesn’t fare much better regarding the color of his cheeks.

“To yours,” he repeats. “Alone.”

“Yes?” Oh god, he doesn’t seem as happy as he should. Oh god, people from the back of the class stare at her, little grins on their faces. Oh god, she is panicking. “Only to study, of course!”

Next to her, Alya stares daggers at her.

“Oh.” Adrien exhales, relief covering his face. Which isn’t disappointing at all. “Sure! I’ll ask Nathalie if she can make some time for me. Troubles with math again?”

“Yeah,” Alya drawls next to her. “She clearly has no idea how to put one and one together. Maybe she even needs a lesson in multiplication.”

Marinette doesn’t even have it in here to react with embarrassment. “Guess my real troubles are with French, huh?”

She regrets her words as soon as they are out there, and her cheeks turn seething hot as she does her best not to look at Adrien directly. Next to her, Alya holds in a loud cackle, wiggling her eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sure Adrien is very capable of French. Once he gets into it, that is.”

Very subtly, Marinette lands a kick on Alya’s leg, but she goes on without skipping a beat.

“He just needs some help with … tenses. Especially the present tense.”

“I think,” Adrien chimes in, one eyebrow arched in confusion, “I’m okay at French?”

Alya grins at him, then at Marinette. “Well. He did always get As, after all.”

Cheeks glowing hot, Marinette sends Alya a deadly glare. Then she turns back to Adrien. She has to admit, he’s really goddamn cute when he is being all clueless. A bit frustrating, but also cute. Okay, he’s always cute, no question there. “Let me know if you can make it.”

Snickering, Alya goes back to her seat. “Don’t let that girl wait for her French homework, Adrien!”

“I … would never?”

“Yeah,” Marinette mumbles. “Didn’t really prove that one, now did you?”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

“I think I get it.”

Marinette can’t listen to Alya properly. Not when her perfection of a boyfriend is standing at the other end of the hall, giving her a look every now and then before fully turning to her.

“I mean, what kind of boy wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to be alone with his girlfriend? All alone, I mean? Totally alone, nothing to distract them, only them and the promise of a lot of fun?” Alya muses. “There’s only one answer.”

Latching onto incoming self-doubt, though? Easy. Just her territory. So instead of watching the perfect way Adrien walks (how can he even make walking that perfect? It should be a crime! If she ever falls victim to a heart attack, she will sue him, no hesitation), she whirls her head around to Alya.

“A boyfriend who is tired of the relationship.”

Alya stares at her. “No –”

“A boyfriend who definitely doesn’t want to make out with his girlfriend.”

“Marinette, no, that’s –”

“A boyfriend who definitely will break up with me. Oh god, Alya hide me! If he never even sees me, he won’t be able to break up with me, it’s a master plan! That’s the law of visibility, you can’t break up with something that is invisible!”

“Who is breaking up?” Adrien’s voice asks.

“You, apparently,” Alya deadpans.

“Alya! You – you traitor!” Tears in her eyes, Marinette peeks over her human shield’s shoulder, meeting Adrien’s eyes in the process. She could melt underneath them, and under the soft smile he gives her.

“Break up with you? Sorry to tell you, but you’re stuck with me for a whole while, Marinette.” His smile grows.

With a giddy grin, she keeps looking at him. “Cool, cool. I totally knew. Totally chill.”

“Just for your information, I can make it after school today. Nathalie gave me three hours. I hope that’s enough time?”

And there you are again, sweet friend named endless anxiety. Welcome back. Marinette practically jolts at that piece of information. “Great! Wow, great. Three hours!”

“Well,” Alya coughs. “With your very much non-existent knowledge of French, it might take you more than three hours.”

“Oh,” Adrien replies before Marinette can even release as much as a squeak. “We could finish on another day, then.”

“God in heaven, why are you making this so easy?” Alya sighs loudly. “But sunshine, of course you could finish on another day! I would suggest an evening date for that one, though. Fits the mood better.”

Marinette feels like fainting as she repeatedly hits Alya’s arm.

“Um, I mean,” Adrien tries, his wonderful face a wonderful picture of innocence. “Why not during the day?”

“Risky, but definitely possible. Well, Agreste, color me impressed by your sense for adventure!”

“… What?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Marinette hisses in Alya’s ear.

“You’re going to thank me,” whispers Alya. “Believe me.”

During their hissed exchange, Adrien lifts his hand to his neck, leaving it there as he smiles at them unsurely. “So, I guess, uh. See you later?”

“Yes!” Marinette peeps, giving him her best smile. “See you later. For our study date. To study. Strictly studying there. Can’t wait. Not nervous at all.”

His smile becomes even more unsure. “Good, good.”

As they watch Adrien go, Marinette’s chin keeps resting on Alya’s shoulder, and she is smiling blissfully at the retreating form of her handsome boyfriend and his handsome – back. Yeah. Back.

Then Alya speaks up again, her voice full of determination. “He’s smitten with you.”

Dreamily, Marinette giggles. A smitten kitten. _Her_ smitten kitten. She likes the sound of that.

“Way too smitten. That’s the problem.”

“Problem,” Marinette repeats.

Grabbing her shoulders, Alya turns her around until they stand face to face. Her expression speaks of pure solemnity. “Look. He’s got it so bad that he’s totally out of his element. Even more nervous than you are. Yes, I know, unbelievable, but that must be it – he doesn’t have the guts to smooch you silly, and that’s the only reason it didn’t happen yet!”

Marinette stares. Then she bursts out laughing. “Sure! He’s such a flirt, and he can’t even make out with me without losing his mind? Yeah, must totally be it!”

“Adrien,” Alya repeats. “A flirt.”

Instantly, Marinette shuts up. Right. “In private moments.”

“Really.”

“Totally.” Even though Alya is right. He is still being a silly goof in his superhero suit, but he hasn’t even as much as kissed her when they’re on the go as their alter egos. Marinette didn’t think too much of it – seriously, it’s a relief, because she would have probably melted away under his comments, now that she knows what she knows. No matter how silly they are. It’s still Adrien, after all. Makes it easier to concentrate that way, too. But – isn’t that weird?

Oh god, it’s weird.

“You’re right,” she therefore breathes. “He totally lost his smoothness. Oh god.”

“Oh god, indeed.” With a mischievous grin, Alya leans a bit closer. “I have a plan, though.”

Planning and Alya is good. Planning and Alya is oftentimes a bit too much for Marinette’s taste, but it leads to solutions, and that’s what she needs right now more than anything. “I’m listening.”

“There. Magic.”

She pulled something out of her pocket. Marinette squints at it. Lip balm, she realizes. In a first reflex, her hand flies to her lips, feeling for chipped skin. “Please, please don’t tell me my lips look unkissable!”

“No! They look very kissable, as ninety percent of our class could confirm!”

“What have ninety percent of our class –”

“Listen – or, no, try it.” Like giving her a secret ingredient, a mystery that is not supposed to reach any other ear, Alya lies the object into Marinette’s open hand and nods at it raptly. “Put it on, dear student.”

“But – it’s yours?”

“And now,” Alya whispers, voice full of meaning, “it shall be yours.”

Intimidated by the heaviness of Alya’s words, Marinette stares down at the magical object again. Her fingers are shaking when she screws open the lid, and as carefully as possible, she uses her little finger to gather some of the balm. Alya watches her, giving encouraging nods as the taste hits Marinette’s lips. It takes her a moment, and when she smacks her lips, she finally recognizes it.

“Coconut,” she mumbles.

“Exactly! Tastes great, right?” Alya wiggles her eyebrows. “Precisely what Adrien will think, too.”

“And how exactly is that supposed to help me?” Marinette asks, holding herself back from licking her own lips. Must be high-quality lip balm for it to have such an intense taste. Slightly sweet, even.

“Oh, sweetheart. Honey, dear. You will see.” As if having aged by twenty years in the last two minutes, Alya shakes her head with a smile. “Ah, to be young and in love.”

“But –”

“Just make sure to wear that before kissing him, and everything will go smoothly.”

“But how –”

“It will … slip right in.”

“Alya, don’t –”

“It will … slide in with no trouble.”

“Could you not –”

“It will –”

“Stop!”

After elegantly maneuvering around her parents (“Hi Adrien is here yeah studying no I shall not take any questions today thank you love you too bye!”), they are in Marinette’s room. And after bribing Plagg with camembert (“Oh Marinette, you didn’t have to! That’s exactly why I like you so much better than Adrien! Aw, don’t look at me like that, kiddo, did _you_ ever put a cute green bow on my camembert? Yes, I thought so!”), their kwamis left them too. And after turning his back to him in her absolute non-nervousness, she smears lip balm on her lips, the scent so strong even she has to resist the urge to lick it off again.

Perfect.

All in all, there they are. On their own. Completely alone. And slowly, Marinette is starting to get jittery. Because it’s the same situation they were in numerous times. She can’t afford a mistake. Not today.

So when Adrien moves to her desk, her first very reasonable reaction is to verbalize her disagreement in a totally calm manner, not losing any nerves at all. That is, by screaming right into his face.

“No!”

Adrien jumps from his half-sitting position into a stiff board position. “Sorry!”

“No problem!” She clears her throat. Grins very naturally. “We could, uh, move to the bed? Maybe?”

“Bed.” He clears his throat. Averts his gaze for a moment. “But, isn’t the desk, isn’t it more comfortable doing homework at the desk – I mean, especially French homework?”

“I’m pretty sure French is so much more comfortable on a bed.” She pauses. “Then again …”

Questioningly, Adrien blinks at her. Oh, right.

“Bed, please?” she squeezes out, cheeks getting hot once again.

“Okay, then,” Adrien returns, a shimmer of pink on his face. “Bed, I guess.”

This is awkward. It’s so awkward that Marinette can’t even execute her perfect plan right away. Instead, she flops onto her stomach with her books and genuinely searches for the French homework, waiting for the right moment. And Adrien genuinely tells her which page it is on, voice all politeness and friendliness. And Marinette genuinely pulls a blank piece of paper closer to her, legs crossing in the air as she props one elbow on the mattress. And she genuinely reads through the exercise while Adrien is sitting next to her, cross-legged. And –

This is just dumb.

She nervously lets her legs swing up and down, fingertips tickling. Just saying it shouldn’t be so hard. It really shouldn’t be. So she girds herself and turns her head.

Only to notice that she has been the only one concentrating on homework, apparently. Because Adrien’s eyes are on her. Not on her face. Not on her back. But on her …

Yeah. On her butt.

Her whole face flushes hot.

This is _perfect_.

She smacks her coconut lips one last time to test the waters. “Like what you see, kitty?”

Adrien jolts so violently his French book slides from his lap, and with very red cheeks, he prevents them from landing on the bed in a wild mess of papers. “What? No. I mean, yes. I mean, I wasn’t staring, I swear!”

She blinks at him heavily. “I’m your girlfriend. You can stare all day if you want.”

“But we’re here to do homework. Professionally do homework. That requires ass- a- attention. It requires attention.”

Okay. This is the moment. It has to be the moment. Determined, Marinette pushes all her homework away from her and sits up, kneeling before Adrien with her hands pressed against her thighs.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Okay?”

“It was an innuendo.”

“An …”

“All of it. It was all an innuendo.”

“What is –”

“From the beginning. When I asked you to do French homework with me.”

She holds his eyes. And slowly, oh so slowly, it seems to click in his brain. “Oh.”

Seconds pass. Nothing happens. Shouldn’t something happen?

“So?” she presses.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

Oh god. She thinks she gets it. And because that devastating thought can’t be contained, she spills it out. “You don’t want to French me.”

“What?” Cheeks deeply red, Adrien finally pushes his homework off too, adapting her pose. “No! Just to let you know – I –”

“But why did you never smooch me before, then?” Her lower lip is trembling. “I kissed you so many times, and you never once tried to – uh – whatever the second step of making out would be!”

“Wait, Marinette –”

“You don’t even flirt with me like you used to! Not even as Chat Noir, which is totally okay, really, a relief, you know, there’s a time and a place, but then again –”

“Because you’re making my head a mess, okay?” he blurts out, face so red it seems to be glowing.

Oh.

“Because you’re – look at you!” He gestures at her as if it’s supposed to tell her anything. “And I’m – and then you’re – and your lips are like – and then you do this little thing where – and then I can’t concentrate and all my thoughts only consist of ‘oh my god, she is way too good for me, what do I do’, and then my brain is a pile of sludge, and I can’t do nothing anymore!” He keeps gesturing senselessly, hands eventually coming to a shaky rest on his thighs again. “There, that’s it. That’s the whole reason.”

They still sit politely across from each other. Marinette’s body becomes fidgety. He looks so unbelievably adorable when he’s a flustered mess. So much so that her heart speeds up.

So she slides a tiny bit closer, leans forward, and pecks his lips.

“Still a mess?” she mumbles.

He has closed his eyes, she discovers as he gives her a tiny nod.

“You’re nervous,” she notes.

With a groan, he lifts a hand to hide his face behind. “Of course I am! _You_ are kissing me.”

“Exactly – it’s just me!”

“Just you? It’s more than just you. It’s everything!”

Okay. And that’s making her blush too. She keeps sitting in this position, slightly leaned forward, and hesitantly brings her hand to his knee. He jumps at the touch, but she doesn’t retract her hand.

“Adrien?”

“Yes?”

She clears her throat. “I never – I never made out with anyone. Ever.”

He peeks at her through his fingers. She hates that she can’t see the whole scope of his emotions like this. “Me neither.”

“Oh.” She nods. Blushes even harder. “Do you … Do you even want to?”

His fingers hide his face again. Still, he nods.

Something blooms in the pit of her stomach as she slides even closer. So close that their knees touch. “Kitty? Look at me?”

It takes endlessly long for him to let his hand sink down, revealing beet-red cheeks and watery eyes. It makes her heart do a wild jump.

“Kiss me?” she whispers.

He gulps. An electrifying feeling takes hold of her as his hand cups her cheek. He leans forward. The tips of their noses brush for a moment. His lips touch hers. A fleeting little thing.

Something moves her. The same longing for more she felt time and time again. This time, she acts on it, putting a hand in his neck and pulling him towards her again.

She has no idea what exactly she wanted to accomplish. Definitely not for their noses to bump against each other and for her lips to slide off his until she is only kissing the corner of his mouth. With that embarrassing knowledge, Marinette flinches back, face turning hot again.

“Sorry!” she peeps, drawing her hand back.

“No, I am –” Adrien retracts his hand from her face too. “Uh. Sorry.”

They stare at each other. Awkward silence sets in.

“I honestly have no idea how this works,” she confesses, voice small.

“We could just try again?” he suggests, no hint of ridicule in his voice. She’s glad.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to.”

Her heart is beating even harder this time when he leans in. She closes her eyes as she meets him halfway, careful to not have their noses touch. They end up angled in a somehow weird, but functional position, she guesses. Lips press against each other without moving much. Just warmth against warmth.

It feels nice enough. But that can’t be right either, can it?

So she tries to move, sliding her lips over his carefully. A good choice, she discovers. The friction causes goosebumps to rise on her skin. His lips are soft and warm, and when she moves her own in just the right way, she can catch his lower lip between hers. Which is nice, very nice. And that little tremble in his breathing? Really, more than nice. So nice that she didn’t even notice that she moved closer to him, both her hands on his thighs as she increases the pressure on his lips.

Just experimentally, she angles her head differently, trying to lean into the right. Adrien seems so surprised by her action that for a moment, his lips part. Enough so that this time, her lower lip is trapped between his, warmth caging her in, and wow, that’s something wholly different. She shudders so violently that her body screams for more, and the distance between them becomes suddenly way too much.

But then, Adrien leans away, breaking their kiss. Unwittingly, she chases after him, only to be stopped by a hand on her cheek. It’s only then that she notices how quick her breathing has become.

“Um.” There’s something novel in Adrien’s eyes, something that makes her body shake. “Could you, maybe … Wait.”

“Did I – sorry –”

Before she can pull back, the hand on her cheek stops her, drawing her closer again. “No, no. It’s just …”

She waits. Heart pounding as he lets go of her, changing into a more comfortable sitting position, legs crossed. Blood rushes in her ears. Her instincts know what to do, but her mind won’t quite follow.

“Or you don’t …?” he begins.

Her head shoots up. She looks at him, at the slight uncertainty covering his face. “No, I – no, it’s okay.”

She takes a tiny breath. Then she scrambles closer. It still takes her a second to straddle his lap, one leg right and one leg left of his hips. Her position leaves her no choice but to sink down entirely, her thighs eventually supported by his, her whole weight on him. Heat tickles in her fingertips. She’s so close to him. So close that his face is only a few centimeters away. So close that his hands naturally come to rest on her waist, and the touch has her body melt.

They cuddled before, sure, but it never felt that … intimate.

“Is that okay?” he whispers. There’s something hidden in his voice, something she would like nothing more than to draw out and taste with her own lips.

“Yeah.” Her hesitant hands come to rest on his shoulders. Even through the veil of giddy excitement, she feels secure in his arms, a feeling she could sink into forever. “Very okay.”

He gives a smile, tiny and gentle. “You taste like something,” he tells her, bright eyes catching hers.

Pure magic, Marinette thinks as she thanks the heavens for having a best friend like Alya. “Something you like?”

“I might have to take another sample, my lady,” he returns, words that make a shiver climb over her skin, and then he kisses her.

Their lips are moving, if a bit aimless. Her hands on his shoulders hold on tighter as she shifts a bit to be closer. But then, suddenly, she feels something warm glide over her lower lip, and oh god, that is his _tongue_ , so that is what you’re supposed to do with your tongue, and oh _god_ – she trembles at the sudden feeling. Trembles so hard that something builds in her throat, and when he does it again, slowly tasting her as his tongue slides over her lip, she whimpers against his mouth.

That’s, uh, embarrassing.

But she seems to be the only one thinking so, because she hears his breath hitch, and his arms pull her so close that their bodies are flush against each other, and that feeling is so new and so _good_ that her heart flutters. He does it again, licking her lip with more pressure. Her fingers dig into his shoulders as she tries to hold on to her sanity.

When his tongue slips between her lips, opening them up, she loses her senses for good.

It always sounded weird to her – how could tongues in someone else’s mouth feel good? But damn it, her face is overheating as Adrien hesitantly touches her tongue with his own, and in her moment of absolute nervousness, she gives half a squeak and grabs his face, lips closing around his before she pulls back.

They look at each other. It’s somehow reassuring to see Adrien’s cheeks being just as deeply red as hers feel, and the tremor in his breathing sparks something inside her.

“Too much?” he asks.

“I,” she swallows, “I really have no idea what to do.”

“Okay.” His arms wrap tightly around her, his hand drawing a little soothing circle over her back. “We can go slower?”

“Okay,” she whispers.

She has no clue what to do with this new kind of feeling, this sparkling heat deep inside her stomach as their lips meet again. It’s kind of scary, and also kind of exciting, and she tries her best to listen to her instincts as her hands glide to the base of his neck. When her fingers splay over his warm skin, she feels him shudder. It’s somehow unreal that such a tiny reaction is enough to make her heart speed up. She lightly scratches a spot where his skin is especially soft. A sound escapes him, reaching her ears a second later. A … grunt?

A moan?

Oh god. Adrien moaned. _Adrien_. Because of _her_.

Something pressing builds in her stomach, and she can’t help but be the one to slip out her tongue this time, carefully tapping over Adrien’s lips. There’s a distinctive taste to him she files away under “yep, definitely can’t get enough of”. Before she knows it, her tongue is touching his teeth, touching – his tongue.

This time, she doesn’t back away again. Instead, curiosity leads her to see where this could go. A tentative touch at first. Her legs are shaking. She is getting no air, and almost reluctantly, she has to close her lips around his again, his lower lip getting caught between hers another time. A shaky breath slips into her lungs.

Before he can pull away from her, she presses her lips back against his, not even having to wait as his lips open for her. It makes her fingertips tingle, and the sound in her throat can’t be held back anymore. A tiny quivering thing that causes Adrien to pull her even closer, and her hand to tangle in his hair, and her breath to catch in her throat as their tongues meet again.

She grows bolder, just to see what he would do when her tongue presses against his with more force. The result is another sound from him, low and short-lived. She likes that, she discovers. She likes drawing those tiny moans from him. Scratch that, she _loves_ it, knowing that no one but her is the cause. It makes her own stomach tickle in response, and her fingers rake through his silky hair as she tries to come even closer to him. His tongue presses back. Something flames up in her, fueled by how feverishly his hands travel over her back, by the wet sound between them when their lips part another time, by the way she is becoming breathless.

“Kissing someone silly” isn’t just a phrase, Marinette begins to understand as her thoughts swirl.

She feels a hand on her jaw, fingers guiding her into a different angle as Adrien kisses her. Instead of opening his mouth for her again, she suddenly feels something else – his teeth nibbling her lower lip, pulling at it gently. It isn’t painful. Anything but. It’s a tickling, heady sensation, shooting right to her stomach, crawling over her limbs. It feels so good that her heart does a flip.

And just like that, her head goes completely haywire.

She suddenly can’t get enough of him. She wants to never stop kissing him. She wants his taste, every last bit. The thought alone rips a moan from her throat, and it would be embarrassing if she wasn’t so determined on _having_ him. With his very being. She licks into his mouth, doesn’t let him get away from her, tongue exploring every spot it can reach. One hand desperately raking through his hair, the other one gliding over his shoulder and his arm and god, she wants to _touch_ him. Touch him until he feels as dizzy as her, and –

He pulls away quickly. “Wait, wait …”

Only slowly awakening from her daze, she blinks her eyes open, being faced by his red cheeks. “Uh – sure, I – everything okay?”

“Maybe we should …” Adrien looks anywhere but at her. “A break? Maybe? Please?”

“Of – of course! Just –” And she gets it when she shifts on his lap, his face giving her all the answers before she even needs to ask.

Oh.

“Oh,” she verbalizes her complex thoughts.

“I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t want to –”

Something in her mind whispers to keep going. Another part is still as flustered as he is though, and quickly, she scrambles off him. “No! I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I just –”

“You’re just very good at this,” he croaks, quickly burying his unoccupied lap underneath schoolbooks. She will never be able to look at French homework the same again. “Sure you never did this before, my lady?” Maybe it should have been teasing, but he still isn’t looking her in the eye.

In her dreams, maybe. But even then, it was just butterfly kisses and soft innocent touches. That new feeling deep in her stomach isn’t entirely new, but she never experienced it with someone right in front of her, and the real depth of the situation catches up to her.

“Sorry,” she squeaks again, hiding her face behind her hands. “I think … I think I got a bit too, um …”

“No, don’t apologize, I also, well …”

She groans, letting herself fall into her mattress, face still hidden. “You’re too much, kitty. Way too much.”

A second of silence. Then she hears some shifting, some rustling, and when she tentatively opens her eyes, Adrien’s face is next to hers, green eyes holding hers. “In a good way?” he whispers.

Her heart explodes for an entirely different reason. Her hand reaches for his cheek, fingers dancing over his skin. He closes his eyes with a content sound.

“In a very good way.”

“I’m glad.”

Seconds pass. She watches his face. Her whole chest fills with warm. “Can I kiss you again?”

He nods. She slides closer. Presses a kiss to his mouth. To his jaw. Lets the tip of her nose brush his skin until she can softly kiss his neck. His arm snakes around her waist, his nose burying in her hair as she stops at his shirt’s collar. He tastes amazing, every spot she can reach, and even though an impulse pushes her to let her tongue tap against heated skin, she isn’t sure if that would be smart after their previous actions.

They’ll have enough study dates anyway in the future, she supposes.

“So,” she mumbles as she slides even closer to him, lips brushing his and arm coming to rest over his shoulder, “thanks for the private tutoring lesson.”

His cheeks are still reddened, but he grins nonetheless. “Could teach you some new vocabulary, bugaboo?”

“Even some tongue twisters.”

He laughs. Kisses her. Kisses her again. Kisses her longer. Kisses her even longer, kisses her until she becomes dizzy, kisses her as he pulls her so close their knees press against each other, kisses her until she sighs and grabs the back of his head, kisses her …

“Surprise.”

Four different flavors of lip balm land on Marinette’s desk. Vanilla, peaches, strawberry, cocoa. She stares at them. Then her eyes drift up to her boyfriend’s face. The mischievous shimmer in his expression is almost too much for her.

“My father got some samples. I made Nathalie snatch some for me.” Adrien shrugs. “You could try them. Sometime.”

“Oh,” she replies. “Huh.” Her whole body is fidgeting at the mere thought. “Hm, I wonder. If you were to choose one, which would be your favorite?”

At that, his façade seems to crack a bit, and he turns red as his eyes leave hers for a moment. “As long as it’s on you, it doesn’t really matter.” With that, he turns back to his own seat.

Marinette isn’t grinning like an idiot. Okay, she is grinning like an idiot. Thinking about all the math lessons he could give her. Physics lessons, even. Or … biology? Okay, no, nope. Internal meltdown. She is going too far with this.

“Girl,” Alya breathes next to her, staring at the lip balm. “Mine wasn’t the cheapest stuff, but that’s brand-name lip balm! Like, freaking forty or fifty for that tiny little thing!” She holds up one of the small tins. “God damn it. Lucky girls and their rich boyfriends.”

“Alya,” Marinette sighs, her cheek landing on Alya’s shoulder. “You are the best. Best friend ever. I’ll buy you a ton of flavored lip balm. Maybe not for forty euros each, but anyway. A ton!”

“Glad I could be of assistance. Told you it’s magic.” Alya pats her head. “Now, there are a lot of flavored things you could use in the future.”

“Uh-huh.”

“For a lot of fun.”

“Alya, what are you talking about?”

“Even though I don’t get most of them. Why strawberry flavor? Why would you – you know – want it to taste like strawberries?”

“Um, Alya, what?”

“Do you think there’s coffee flavor too? I mean, of course, there’s coffee flavor for almost anything, blegh. But isn’t that gross? It is, right?”

“Alya. I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“Oh, yeah.” Alya nods in sudden understanding. “Let’s talk about that in, well – at your pace, about five to seven years?”

Marinette blinks. “What? What do you mean?”

“Nothing at all.” Snickering, Alya turns away.


End file.
